


you can use it in this story of yours

by NicuCostam



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: A Long Day in Dunwall, Gen, Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, The Dunwall Courier, Ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicuCostam/pseuds/NicuCostam
Summary: A long day in Dunwall, shooting on the streets, people barricading in houses... Idyll. Short something about the Courier.





	you can use it in this story of yours

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Możesz użyć tego w swoim opowiadaniu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13031943) by [NicuCostam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicuCostam/pseuds/NicuCostam). 



> Bro gave me 5 euro for it. Extremely good deal considering that the prompt said "4 pages - 1 corpse, 1 dog, and one goat." Although she did not want any fandom, but original work, oh well...  
> Also, I know that the newspaper accused them of murder, but somehow I do not want to change it anymore, so let's pretend it's so small au, ok? And i forgot to check printers name, so now there's my guy here...
> 
> I made this translation myself and I have no fucking clue how english works actually. Indżoj, i guess.

People were screaming, gunshots were heard from time to time, guard dogs were barking, in short, an idyll.

Only Dunwall's Courier offices were relatively calm. The main reason was, that as soon as the riots started and the Guard began to knock on the apartments' doors on the main street, Martin bolted all the doors. That early in the morning inbuilding was only him, occasionally Mrs. Whitlock dealing with cleaning, easy enough to pretend there's no one there. And safer, because who knows what a fantastic idea can come into minds of City Guard.

And editor Martin? He sat at his desk and tried to write something. He did not have any specific plan for what it would be, but certainly not another article about the Crown Killer. Or memories for the anniversary of the Empress's death. Or the plague in Serkonos. And definitely not reportage from current events. Mainly because he had no idea what was happening in the palace or city as such.

In truth, he wanted to write a novel or at least some short story. Anything. Even if it was to be shallow and cheap, like _the Prince of Tyvia_.

But he only had an emptiness in his head. And not even the Void, where the source of all dreams is, and, as the Overseers says, guardians of law and order, the source of all sin. That would be quite inspirational. Dangerous too, in the end, Overseers pursued heresy, but definitely inspiring.

However, the emptiness in Martin's head was a and common lack of ideas. And the fact that the page in the typewriter was quite clean didn't help at all.

On the other hand, if he does not write anything, he will have nothing. However absurdly straight this thought would sound, it was a valuable tip, which Anton Sokolov himself once gave him in an interview. Admittedly, Sokołow talked about painting and preparing a sketch, but is not writing somewhat similar? In the end, this and this is art, right?

The weather description seemed like a good start. Martin looked out the window to have something to model on and began to type the first words...

_"As usual, dark clouds hung over Dunwall. Not so much as heralds of rain, but a simple gloomy decoration of the sky. Of course, sometimes there was also a drizzle... "_

"Sir?"

Martin looked up from the typewriter, ready to snarl, that he didn't want to be disturbed, and go back to work. But Mrs. Whitlock was standing in the office door, pale and shocked.

"Someone is banging on the door from the alley. I was quiet as a mouse, when I was downstairs, no one could hear me. But this man screams that he wants to see you and that he knows we're inside..."

In fact, there was a dull thud from the ground floor, but distant enough that it seemed only another sound of street riots.

"Did you try to see through the window who it is? Does he wear a uniform?"

" _Oh no!_ He could see me, and what then?" She laid a trembling hand on her chest.

"Please, make yourself some tea, while I'll go down and see what can be done with it," He said and got up from the desk.

Mrs. Whitlock, however, smiled gently, valiantly even. "I think I would prefer a glass of something stronger..."

"Of course. A bottle should be in the cupboard next to the sofa," and frozen left, going slowly and silently down the stairs.

Already on the first floor, the banging was clearly audible, and on the ground floor, it seemed so loud that the whole street must have heard it. However, Martin first checked whether the wardrobe, previously set to block front door, was still in place. And whether all the blinds were still drawn. Only then did he move to the back room and to the metal door leading into one of the side streets.

"Martin, it's me, open it!" The man on the other side of the door didn't scream, but shouted conspiratorially. As if he wanted to be heard but also not, at the same time. Martin just sighed, wiped his forehead, and reached for the keys to open. Well, even in a city like Dunwall, it is good to show others goodness, from time to time.

And Gavin, standing in the dark alley and squeezing his official hat in hands, was also an old friend. An old friend who, as a path of his career, chose the City Guard, but nevertheless ...

Gavin went in and immediately slammed the door behind him, even began to move metal cabinets, creating another makeshift, and probably not very effective, barricade. Just to be sure, Martin squeezed forward to finally close the door. Only then did he turn towards friend.

Not really knowing what to say, he raised his hands and shook them, a ring of keys rattling loudly. The city was almost on fire, Mrs. Whitlock up probably had a nervous breakdown, and Gavin had blood on his uniform (in addition, not his own, because he did not look wounded). Martin just wanted to come to work early and suffer over his blank page in peace. It was not a sin for which the god would punish him so much. And it was not even tenth...

" _I'm so glad you're alright..._ " Gavin began in this deep, calm voice.

"You're all in the blood!"

"Um, I..." He looked down as if only now realizing that his official blue coat actually had plenty of wet, dark spots. When he looked up, his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips curved into a sad curve. He looked horrible. More like it hurt him, not whoever bled him, Martin thought sourly.

Official cap squeezed in Gavin's hands looked like it could never be properly ironed. Martin snatched it from him and threw it somewhere in the corner. Then he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, just a calming gesture, and pushed him toward the stairs.

On the second floor, Mrs. Whitlock sat on the sofa, smoked a cigarette, sipped whiskey, and generally looked as if the sounds of shots and screams coming through the balcony did not shake her as much as it seemed earlier. Even the sight of the city guard walking just behind Martin did not evoke any violent reaction from her. She lifted the glass and nodded her greeting.

Martin raised an eyebrow. Mrs. Whitlock was a great mystery. A bit annoying mystery.

"Sit and, I do not know, have a drink and I'll look for some clean clothes." Gavin sat down opposite Mrs. Whitlock, sending her a tentative smile.

Eventually, an old shirt and jacket were found in archives between some boxes. In the meantime, Gavin managed to tell what was happening in the city, still in a slightly broken voice. Facts were: Empress Emily was proclaimed a traitor, as well as responsible for the brutal murders of Crown Killer. Delilah Kaldwin, whom no one had ever heard of and which arrived on the same day with Duke of Serkonos, became the new ruler was. And that all this took place during the anniversary of the death of Empress Jessamine. The battle broke out between the City Guard siding with Duke and Empress's supporters, and the guests got between everything...

"... Then this whole chaos poured out of the palace into the entire damned district, and that's why now the main street is barricaded..."

"And people really believe that the Empress personally killed her political opponents? Because combined with today's events, it looks more like a palace coup." Martin has been writing in his articles for a few weeks about how absurd the theory is that the Royal Protector, or the Empress herself, are the Crown Killer. He didn't have any solid pieces of evidence except for a hunch and a strong belief in it, but it was just enough to fill two columns every week.

"I don't know how it really is but somehow convinced the City Guard. At least the greater part of it."

"Or Duke paid them."

Gavin made a move as if to deny it, but he paused. Just sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. Senior Guard officers looked after their pockets more than their reputation.

"What are you even _doing_? Why are you staying here instead of going back home where is safe?" Gavin's voice was strong again, and it seemed that all of his shocks had passed. Maybe because he drank a glass of whiskey with Mrs. Whitlock. Only he still wore this bloody cloak.

Martin adjusted the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and looked somewhat wistfully at the typewriter and the description of the sky.

"I thought that if I look myself here I will have some peace and finally write something..." Gavin hid his face in his hands, and Martin began to hysterically raise his voice. "... And besides, you've seen what's happening in the streets! How would I sneak through?"

"If we left together, me pretending to be just lost old lady, needing grandson's help to come back home, they could just let us pass. After all, these blocks are to protect the people in the city." Mrs. Whitlock smiled over her glass. It sounded like she had everything already planned.

Gavin pointed at her, still accusingly glaring at Martin. "See, this's a better plan."

" _Naïve…_ "

"Though, did you write something?"

"Yes," Martin replied, feeling a little of what is coming...

"Then show us."

" _No!_ "

Gavin smiled, but somehow without a hint of cheerfulness. Martin tried to rebuke him, but it did not seem to have any effect. Mrs. Whitlock drained her second glass of whiskey and even seemed to enjoy herself.

While outside, another fight broke out, men shouted trying to catch someone, shooting, throwing grenades. Just chaos.

"I think Lord Attano it's this whole Crown Killer." Mrs. Whitlock said abruptly. "After all, he's the Royal Protector, so his job is to get rid of people who could harm the crown."

"The victims were mostly malcontents, not conspirators..." Martin replied, also pouring some alcohol for himself.

"How could we know? We are not spies. Or Spymasters." She shrugged thoughtfully.

"Right!" Gavin cried triumphantly. "Everyone knows that Corvo Attano is strange..."

"He is from Serkonos," Martin muttered, more towards his glass than the others.

"... A few weeks ago I was on patrol with my dog. A quiet night, nothing happens, was even warm. Suddenly, the Royal Protector falls on a street, as if he was jumping from the lamppost to the lamppost. I thought he died, even the wolfhound started sniffing him and then he simply gets up. Swears like an old whaler and drinks, one by one, three large vials of Sokolov's potion. Definitely not normal. And what even, lord like him, does in dark night on the streets, hm?" Gavin raised eyebrows. "You can use it in this story of yours."

Martin sat down in one of the worn seats and leaned back tired. The time of the second breakfast was approaching...

 _"What?"_ he asked weakly.

"You said earlier you wanted to write a crime or something. So you have it. A murderer who is like a ghost, no one can notice him, because he is sticking to shadows and walks on the roofs..."

"There is already book like this. _The Knife of Dunwall._ You would like it." Martin pointed to the bookshelf.

"You said it was terrible."

"It's popular literature. And is... rather bearable. In any case, it's a very similar concept to what you're talking about." He replied, smiling slightly. "I too once saw Lord Attano, here in front of the palace, but it was early in the morning. He was running through the street as if Outsider himself was chasing him, and he carried a crying goat on his back. This, in particular, betrayed his location."

"Now you' making fun of me..." Gavin got up from the chair and walked closer to the balcony. Most likely, to check what caused another screams and shots on the street.

"When it's the only truth. I went out to smoke on the balcony and I heard bleating."

" _Oh_ , I also have a story for sirs." Mrs. Whitlock said suddenly. "Fifteen years ago, at the time of this great plague of rats, I was still working at the Boyles. Back then, everywhere in the city, were posters about wanted masked criminal, but Mrs. Boyles insisted on mascarade. All guests wore masks, some were quite ingenious, but the rest were rather bad taste. The ball lasted and everyone had a good time until it broke the twelfth and there was a big pulling off masks. They couldn't find one of Boyles's sister. Immediately raised alarm, called more guards, and the guests were locked in the building. In the end, they found her, in the tub in her room, all in blood..."

"She _killed_ herself?.." Martin inhaled loudly.

"Oh, no! Bullet in the back." Mrs. Whitlock laughed. "Although the murderer wasn't found, anyone who saw the guest book could have guessed who did it. Corvo Attano signed himself!"

"Unbelievable..."

"And yet, and yet" she nodded.

Martin saw some movement on the balcony, he should have shouted if not the fact that the shadow was faster and stood just behind Gavin. They caught the former guard in the firm grip and began to choke.

Martin frozed in chair, Mrs. Whitlock screaming loudly, Gavin fell to the floor, but he was still breathing, and the mysterious figure went deeper into office and pulled the scarf covering their face.

"Dunwall's people, I'm Emily Kaldwin, and..." she began, but Martin interrupted her with his hysterical screams.

"How did you get here?! It's the second floor... Please, leave, we don't want any trouble!"

" _But_ " the alleged Empress kicked unconscious Gavin. "I just saved you from trouble. Currently, the Guard is not very friendly..."

"I appreciate! Leave us alone!"

The woman shrugged, took three pears from the tray on the table and went out to the balcony, most likely to dissolve in the same way she appeared.

Finally, when Gavin regained consciousness, and Mrs. Whitlock had dried the entire bottle, Martin had four pages. It was even more than he had planned in the morning, going to Dunwall Courier.

**Author's Note:**

> Saw some awful writing/grammar mistakes? Hit me, I swear I won't cry
> 
> im thirstforred on dumblr


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